


A Mother's Eyes

by SheWhoStumbles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Other, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoStumbles/pseuds/SheWhoStumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been three years since the messengers had brought news to Ealdor of King Arthur’s death. It had been three years since magic was restored to the land and Albion entered her golden age. And it had been three years since Hunith had last heard from her only son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Eyes

It had been three years since the messengers had brought news to Ealdor of King Arthur’s death. It had been three years since magic was restored to the land and Albion entered her golden age. And it had been three years since Hunith had last heard from her only son.  
  
But it was the first year of celebrations and the people of Ealdor had been proclaiming their love and respect for the late King Arthur for a solid fortnight. The whole ordeal had left a bad taste in Hunith’s mouth. She knew the role her son played in uniting the kingdoms together, but no one else did. They wouldn’t believe her even if she tried to tell them.  
  
She’d become a sort of legend herself in the small village. “Crazy, old Hunith” they’d call her when she’d start to tell them how close her Merlin was to their golden king; that he’d helped Arthur build the Camelot that they had all seen prosper. It didn’t help her pain that she didn’t know what had become of her son after Arthur’s death. She knew Merlin would’ve blindly followed Arthur to his grave, and there was a part of her that feared that was exactly what Merlin did.  
  
As Hunith awoke on the last day of celebrations, she heard a commotion coming from the center of the tiny village. She exited her home and noticed that most of the townspeople had already gathered together. She groaned to herself. This was supposed to be the last and slowest day of celebrations, but here they were getting a proper, early start. If only they knew how much it pained her to think of the broad, golden prince and thus the gangly raven-haired sorcerer at his side. As she drew closer, she caught snippets of a fanciful tale from a voice she had never heard before.  
  
“…and so young Prince Arthur set out a dangerous quest to defy his father and retrieve the Mortaeus flower to save the serving boy.” The wizened old man said in the style of a true storyteller, perfectly creating a hint of awe and wonder among his audience.  
  
“But, Dragoon…” a young boy gathered near his feet spoke up, “didn’t the serving boy save King Arthur’s life? Isn’t it only fair that he return the favor?”  
  
The bearded old man began to laugh. “The King’s life was more precious than the servant’s, lad. It was the boy’s duty and honor to die for the Great King!” His eyes darkened and his voice took on a more serious tone. “Besides, the prince’s manservant would go on to do nothing more than cause a multitude of never-ending problems for the future of Camelot.”  
  
“Who was this boy? That the prince was willing to die for?”  
  
The man carefully eyed the girl who had posed the question “Aren’t you all a curious lot? Inquiring about a random servant amongst thousands in the large city of Camelot?” He sounded almost indignant. “I can assure you that he was no one special at all. He could’ve been a farmer like you’ll be one day. Or a blacksmith, but fate put him in the King’s presence and that was the only thing spectacular about him. Aside from his unsightly ears!”  
  
“You’re wrong!” Hunith spoke before she could control herself as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. She locked eyes with the old man for the briefest of seconds, long enough for a spark of recognition to appear in the man’s eyes before she stormed off back to her home. She knew that no one would believe her son had saved the life of the great King Arthur more times than she could count, but that didn’t mean she had to listen to strangers denounce his worth.  
  
The next morning Hunith woke to find ‘The Great Dragoon’, as the children had begun to call him, once again seated in the center of the village spinning an elaborate tale of how King Arthur pulled an immovable sword from a stone, declaring him the true king of Camelot. Day after day, the old man would tell stories. At night, no one knew where he went. But he would always return in the morning to spin a fable of the miraculous deeds of Arthur and the idiot servant who often got in his way.  
  
As the legends of Arthur and his knights of the round table and the many quests and adventures they sought out became immortalized through the passing on from village to village, Hunith grew older. She woke one morning knowing that her time was drawing to a close and settled down in her bed. There was no one to send her off. Balinor was long gone. Gaius was in Camelot. And Merlin? Well, who knew where her dear son was now? She sat down to rest her bones, weary with the trials of life when an all too familiar white beard crossed the threshold.  
  
“I don’t mean to disturb you, my lady.” The man bowed as he entered her tiny home.  
  
“Please. You know that I am no lady.” Hunith scoffed. “Just the crazy old village woman with nonsensical tales of the heroic deeds her idiot boy did…Please just leave me to die in peace.” She pleaded quietly with the old man, not having the energy to put forth any fight.  
  
The old man stood quietly for a moment before settling down on the cold, dirt floor and taking her hand in his. “I have just one story left to tell, if you’d allow it. Then, I will leave you be.”  
  
Hunith sighed and closed her eyes. There was no point in arguing with the stubborn old fool. The sooner he told his story, the sooner she was allowed to quietly take her eternal rest.  
  
“My story begins with a powerful dragonlord travelling through a small town called Ealdor.” Hunith took in a sharp breath as she realized the direction this story would be taking. Maybe the man wasn’t as much of a fool as she had thought. “There he found a beautiful and caring woman that he chose to make his life with until the harsh king declared war on the magical world and sought to persecute those who could control the very essence of the earth. Though the beautiful young woman was abandoned as the harsh king’s men closed in on the powerful dragonlord, she was left with a baby boy – her little bird.  
  
“Unfortunately for the young woman, it wasn’t long before she discovered that her baby bird held more power than her dragonlord ever had. She knew that these were dangerous times and kept her little bird hidden from the world and taught him not to use the gifts bestowed upon him by nature.”  
  
Hunith ignored the tears that began to stream down her cheeks. “One day, her little bird grew up and his magic was harder to ignore so the young woman sent her boy to the very heart of the persecution of magic. Many would say this decision was reckless and unwise, but the woman knew that deep down that this was the best thing for her son. That in the kingdom, he would have a friend who would teach him how to control the power he had bottled up inside.  
  
“What the young woman never expected, however, was that her powerful son – whom she had told to keep hidden and out of harm’s way – would find himself in the company and trust of the prince. The two didn’t get along at first. The prince thought the young warlock was beneath him – an insubordinate welp who needed to be taught his place. The warlock thought the prince a spoiled, pompous arse. But the two boys’ fates were intertwined and they soon became close friends.” The old man paused as the memory caused him to fondly chuckle.  
  
“As the warlock came to care for the young prince, he protected his life with everything that he had. He battled beasts, drank poisons, and tamed dragons all in the name of the Once and Future King. Together, the two built a powerful nation - one that the world had never seen before and will likely never see again. But the time came for the young boy who was now King to bide his time in the lake for though he had passed from this world, there would be a time for him to one day return. The warlock, who had now fully realized his power, set out in disguise to tell his King’s story while he patiently awaited his master’s return. It did not matter to him that the people knew of his deeds for even if no one knew his power or role in helping to build the Golden Age, there would always be one woman in a tiny little village who knew exactly what her little bird had done.”  
  
Hunith slowly opened her eyes to gaze into the deep blue eyes that were far too crisp and young for a man of Dragoon’s age. “If the powerful Warlock had such faith in his mother, why did he never return to say goodbye?”  
  
Dragoon gave Hunith a weary smile. “Maybe he never really wanted her to know that gravity of how much damage he did trying to follow an oversized lizard’s idea of destiny.”  
  
Hunith closed her eyes one last time and the old man reached up to brush a lone tear from her cheek, just like she had done so many times for her little bird.


End file.
